


Broken Wings

by Anonymous



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Dark, Everyone Lives but Josh, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, all ye who enter, alternate order of events, butterfly motif, turn back now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought we had a connection..."</p><p> </p><p>Sam goes to the Washington Lodge to be there, for Josh, but unfortunately none of the friends could have known how the weekend would turn out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> this is from watching ONE too many playthroughs of this fucking game and i am truly going to hell for this.
> 
> the relationship, if you can even call it that, between Josh and Sam, is so unhealthy its not funny. I don't think they would have been a thing even if his sisters hadn't died and he hadn't gone off the deep end, but who knows. this is not that story. this is a story about behind the scenes, what if Josh had less self control? and this is NOT for the faint of heart. it's clear non-con but as glossy as possible. like i can't usually write smut as anything but consensual so this was weirdly challenging.  
> in his twisted mind, he does love her. and he hates her. all at once.

Sam watches Josh on her phone, in the welcome video, and he looks…better. He doesn’t quit look the way he did before…last year. But he’s been going to therapy, he’s had new meds, he’s told her this.

She almost looks forward to seeing him again, to having him in her arms, by her side, and she thinks maybe, just maybe, this year won’t be a mistake.

Looking back, in the cold seat at the Police Station, she can’t believe how wrong she was.

***

It’s hard to pretend that he doesn’t despise each and every one of them, with the exception of Sam, but Josh manages to cling to the edges of his sanity, just for a few hours more when they all arrive.

 Everything is set up, and once Jessica and Mike go off on their adventure, the real fun will begin.

If all goes to plan, they’ll never reach the guest cabin alive.

He smiles, and catches Sam watching him.

He manages to turn it into a real expression of joy, because how could he feel anything else looking at her.

She’s gotten more beautiful with the last year, grief and stress carving away at the baby face she once had, granting sculpted cheekbones, and her hair’s blonder, while her eyes are harder, like green ice.

“We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever.”

Her words strike a chord in him, and he wonders, he hesitates, just a moment, and decides to let her live.

As they run from the figure he knows is Chris, the idiot couldn’t resist the props in his basement; he wonders how he’ll get time alone with Sam again.

Maybe he’ll knock Chris and Ashley out for more than five minutes. The gas can be made more potent.

It’s the only way.

An hour later, Sam’s upstairs happily soaking in a bath, and Josh is standing at the base of the stairs, in full Psycho regalia, looking down at Chris and Ashley, collapsed where he decked them with one punch, and the help of a gas mask.

Now is the time.

Every step up a stair is a piece of the costume shed.

When he’s outside the bathroom door, where he knows Sam is probably listening to her classical music, he’s only in his navy plaid boxers.

He knocks.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

She must have some good ear buds in.

He pushes the door open, of course it’s not locked, why should she have any reason not to trust them?

First, he takes away her neatly folded stack of clothes, leaving just a sock behind, and then he moves to the corner of the room, where she couldn’t possibly see him with the feeble candlelight.

She’s facing the window and her eyes are closed as she sways her head with the music.

His hands are twitching, and his heartbeat in thundering in his ears.

He wants to touch her.

But soon.

For now, he can look his fill, and touch himself.

His eyes accustom to the darkness and he can see the outline of her pale breasts under the water, with no bubbles to hide them. He imagines he could see all of her, down the curve of her stomach to the hidden warmth between her thighs, and that’s plenty enough to get him hard, and shaking.

He bites his fist to keep silent while his other hand works fast, relentless, tugging and stroking until he’s slumped against the wall, his hand slippery with his release.

He practically runs out of the bathroom to get dressed again.

He’s wasted precious time, he knows.

***

“Very funny, ha ha, look at Sam without her clothes walking around in a towel, Okay, joke’s over.”

She can’t believe they’ve actually resorted to this. It’s so childish and so five years ago. Sam wanders down the stairs to the theater room, expecting to find everyone watching some dumb horror movie and tossing popcorn at one another, but like every other room in the house, it’s cold, and dark, and empty.

The candles scattered around the house become slightly more sinister.

“What the hell?”

The projector turns on, as the doors slam shut behind her.

It’s like a nightmare, but she pinches herself, and she’s not waking up.

A distorted voice comes over the surround sound speakers, and there’s a video of her playing on the wall.

Just a few moments earlier, while she was in the bath.

Goosebumps erupt on her skin and she’s struck with the urge to run.

Fight or flight.

A countdown begins and she’s reliving every worst case scenario she ever imagined, down a dark alley, with a monster chasing her.

Except, this is real.

The doors fly open behind her, and there’s a Psychopath in a clown mask greeting her and stalking closer.

“No!”

She screams, and she runs.

Every step is painful, and it reminds her that she’s extremely vulnerable in just a towel and with wet hair. If this maniac doesn’t catch her, she might still catch her death of cold.

The set of stairs to the basement foil her, and she trips on the broken one, bare feet snagging on an exposed rebar.

She feels the sting and the tear of skin, but she can’t stop!

The bat!

She grabs it on her run past and prepares to turn and fight now.

The maniac grabs for her, and she sees the gleam of a needle in his gloved hand.

“Fuck off!”

She yells, and hits him over the head with the bat, full force.

He retreats, and almost falls down, and she keeps running.

When she comes to a hall with a cot blocking the way, she doesn’t think she can jump it, but will hiding under it do any good?

Heavy footsteps tell her she’s got limited time.

She jumps it, and hides below the ledge past it.

Her foot is trailing blood she knows, and it’s only a few nerve wracking breaths and moments later that she feels a prick on the side of her neck.

She slaps it away too late, and she looks up to see the clown mask leering down at her.

It’s the last thing she sees before everything turns black.

***

The bed is right there, it would be so easy!

Josh’s heart and mind are at war. It’s a simple decision to pull Sam up from where she was hiding, and she’s out now, so she’s limp in his arms.

The towel shifts, and without his permission, falls open.

From behind the mask, he can barely see her, so he rips it off.

So much pale skin, so much sheer need to touch it all, to kiss where he never could, overwhelms him all at once, and he nearly drops her.

He does set her down, on the cot, and then steps away, head falling into his hands.

“NO, no, no no no, no. This isn’t right.”

But he loves her.

Is this what love would do?

Take advantage of a horrible situation?

Josh wanted this from the start; because he knew he couldn’t hold the front up when presented with Sam conscious.

She’d have shaken her head, clucked her tongue, and patted his shoulder, and that would have been that.

She’d never have looked at him with anything but pity.

He fists his hands at his sides, before stepping back towards her and the ache is back. His hands loosen, and twitch, and then he’s touching her.

Her breasts fit into his palms like they were made for it, and he can’t hold back a strangled moan at how soft her skin is against his rough hands.

Her chest heaves with slow breaths, as she sleeps, like a Disney princess, dreamless and calm.

Her eyes don’t even move behind her lids. So he kisses them. Her lips are only inches away, what would it hurt?

She tastes like vanilla and rainwater.

He bites her bottom lip and instantly regrets it.

She doesn’t need more pain.

He should know. He’s got a monopoly on pain.

His gaze slides down her body and instead of stopping where he wants, he notes her foot, bleeding, and staining the sheets.

He didn’t mean for her to get hurt.

He tears a strip from his overalls and wraps it up tight, hoping for the best.

It’s elevated, and it’ll congeal.

Then he’s moving his hand back up her bare leg, and his fingers twitch when he reaches the top of her thigh. His breathing has gone ragged, and he’s hesitating.

The voice inside his head, the maniac is screaming, to take what he wants while he still can.

Dr. Hill, the logical and sane side, argues that it’s wrong.

Josh shakes his head.

She’s not innocent, she’s not with anyone, and she’s his for the taking. For now.

She’s wet when he touches her, but whether it’s from the bath or something else, he doesn’t know.

His fingers press inside her, and the tight heat is more than enough to tease his mind and warn him that he could be wrong.

It doesn’t matter.

When he climbs on top of her, he doesn’t bother undressing. He just undoes his pants enough to slip out his throbbing cock, and shove himself inside her.

She gasps, and her icy green eyes flutter open and shut, so fast like butterfly wings. Or maybe he imagines it.

He’s crying the instant he comes, and he’s shaking so hard he might have fallen off the cot if not for his grip on her thighs.

He waits until the shaking subsides, and he gets up off of her, slowly, and carefully.

But it’s not over. He’s still hard.

What is wrong with him?

But she can’t know.

Tenderly, carefully, he uses the edge of the sheet to clean her off, as best he can, and then he flips her over, so that her head is still facing him, but now her bare back and perfectly shaped ass are all he can see.

That’s his too.

He takes himself in hand and jerks off again, angry at himself more than at her, and he’s shuddering out another orgasm, a better one, all over her skin, until the amount of white is obscene and he’s not sure what to do with it.

Leave it.

Let her know who she belongs to.

Josh shakes his head.

That would scare her more than anything.

He reaches out, and he’s drawing his hand through the mess, forming the shape of a heart, before turning it into a butterfly. Then he scoops it up and tosses it aside.

The sheet is going to need a good washing after all this.

Somewhere inside his head, a clock is ticking.

Chris and Ashley need his attention now.

He straightens up and returns his mask to his face, staring one more time down at her, the beautiful bathing bird who couldn’t love him.

She can’t be left like this.

He picks her up and walks her over to the next room, wrapping the towel back around her and setting her gently into a chair, facing a camera he’s not sure he’ll need.

“Sleep well.”

He says as a parting farewell.

He’s got real work to do.

***

Sam comes back to reality with a jerk, and she’s shaking from the cold, just in a towel, in sub zero temperatures in a basement, not good.

Mike’s calling her name.

She frowns and looks around, letting her eyes adjust to the light, or lack thereof.

“Sam! Can you hear me?”

She nods, still trying to find her tongue to speak.

Something feels off. Something feels _wrong_.

She shifts in the chair and instantly freezes.

Her thighs are sticky, and there’s an ache like a cramp, but not quite.

“Can you open the door? It won’t open from my side.”

She nods again, and her mind races, all coming to the horrible conclusion that she’s been _violated_ while unconscious, and the bat is the least of that monsters worries when she gets her hands on him.

She gets the door open, finds her backpack and a second outfit, and then she and Mike are off. They’re heading towards another part of the house, the lodge, and there’s a table and chairs and Chris and Ashley and a saw blade and a gun on the table and _the monster_ that knocked her out.

Before she can run at him, he’s reaching up and taking off his mask, and laughing in their faces.

Her heartbeat shudders to a stop, and her breath catches in her throat.

Mike’s behind her, beside her, and yelling in outrage, but she can’t even form a coherent thought.

_Josh?_

“What have you done?”

Chris says the obvious, he’s off his meds, and Mike’s already on him, pointing a real gun, with more than blanks inside it at Josh, and Sam’s blinking rapidly, trying to find a foothold on the perfectly flat ground, hoping for an explanation other than her best friend’s brother having  _knocked her out and then raped_ _her._

But no one is disputing the fact he’s been behind some truly awful things happening that evening.

Chris and Mike take him away, practically dragging him, and Sam doesn’t say a word to protest.

Ashley has a black eye, and Sam is pretty sure she knows where she got it.

***

Taunting Chris is too easy. Mike’s a tougher cookie to crack. But when it comes to Jessica, well, that’s the breaking point.

He’s telling the truth. He doesn’t remember killing her.

He was with Sam most of the time anyway.

She’s soft too and more than tight.

He grins up at Mike, and almost relishes the punch Chris gives him.

He deserves worse.

That’s exactly what he gets when they leave him.

Crack.

There goes the last of Josh’s self control and fragile sanity.

Hannah and Beth are telling him he killed them. He didn’t but he didn’t save them either.

He might as well be dead.

***

“Where’s Josh?”

She asks Mike, but she keeps her voice cool, and it’s casual. She doesn’t really care.

But she does.

Damn her compassion.

“The thing got him. I don’t know if he’s even alive.”

A mad desire to laugh bubbles up inside her throat, and she chokes on it.

“Oh god.”

Hours later, after the lodge explodes in fire, and the monsters, plural, are dead, Josh is lost, and everyone is broken beyond fixing, she keeps her mouth shut about the events before that.

“I thought we had a connection…I guess I was wrong.”

She can’t feel anything anymore. She’s numb to it.

Maybe that’s why she says she’s fine.

She’s not.

But fine is better than thinking about what happened.

“I’d give anything to unsee it.”

And forget.

***

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry.  
> but i'm your problematic fave still right?  
> right?
> 
>  
> 
> :/


End file.
